


Shoot Myself Up High

by orphan_account



Series: Chao's Kink Bingo [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Community: kink_bingo, How even, M/M, Suspension, This turned out cuter than I expected, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson has a surprise for Stiles</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot Myself Up High

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Love, Save The Empty' by Erin McCarley

When Stiles’ life had become some sort of horror movie cliche, he’d thought that was it. There was no way his life could get weirder. Some sort of limit had to have been reached. But, he was wrong. Instead the cliche that was his day to day existence sort of shuddered sideways into other genres, which was probably more irritating that more weird supernatural stuff.

And so, without really meaning to, Stiles’ had entered a teen romance film. At first it had been frustrating, but now he was kind of used to it. If nothing else, it had some benefits. Like sex. Sex was a very big plus.

Really, it wasn’t his fault. Or Jackson’s. Well, okay, maybe it was. Their original plan - pretend to be together to make so-and-so jealous - really was out of some lame 90s high school movie. But people did that in real life too, right? Jackson said they did, but he was always an unreliable source when it came to matters of pride. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that neither of the people they wanted to make jealous reacted like they’d hopes.

For Jackson, it was Lydia. After all the crap with the Kanima had settled and he was a proper wolf now, ect ect break out the champagne, he’d tried to make up for the grade-A dick he’d been and get her back. But she hadn’t been biting. At all. The most he’d gotten out of her had been civility. Which put a big wrench in Peter’s ‘power of human love’ thing, but whatever.

And Stiles, well... he may have managed to get past the need for his unattainable fantasy romance, but he’d latched onto a new one. Hard. For real, this time, instead of sighing from a distance and then going about his day. 

It had been Jackson to propose the plan How he knew about Stiles was a mystery that probably went by the name of ‘Scott’. Jackson claimed that he’d figured it out for himself, with one of those bland stares that meant he thought Stiles was being an idiot, but there was that unreliable pride thing again. When he’d pointed out that his current crush wasn’t exactly likely to get jealous, Jackson had just muttered something about ‘possessive’ and assured him that this would work, complete with a money back guarantee. And then he’d had to assure Stiles that he wasn’t paying him or making him into a prostitute or something, which would maybe teach him to watch his mouth.

Stiles had asked what exactly made Jackson think he could even stand to pretend to be into him. Smirking, Jackson had leaned forward until their noses were just shy of brushing, and practically purred out, “I’m everyone’s type.”

The way Stiles had gone bright red and flustered and stuttered rather than reply had been confirmation enough.

Thus, they had ‘dated’. They’d gone around in Jackson’s stupidly expensive car and had dinner at fancy restaurants and went bowling with just each other and spent free time at school as close to each other as possible. And people had cared (way too much to be healthy, really), but not the _right_ ones. If anything Lydia seemed relieved that Jackson had finally backed off of her, and spent an awful lot of time telling Stiles the best way to get Jackson going in way more detail than he’d ever wanted said. At least, not in the middle of school. 

As for Stiles’ crush, the less said the better. If their charade had even been noticed, it would have been a shock to him.

And they’d both sighed and pined and drowned their sorrows in food and movies and cuddles, and then it had all gone downhill.

Because the stupidest romantic comedy cliche had happened. They fell in _love_ during their fake relationship. It was almost enough to make Stiles ashamed of himself. The both of spent the first few weeks complaining about that almost as much as they had making out. Almost.

Things were good, now. For the most part. Stiles might have still been kind of hung up on his stupid, stupid crush, but he was pretty sure he kept it buried well enough. Especially since he cared about Jackson just as much, and he was there and he _cared_ , in a Jackson kind of way, and that meant a lot. And things were kinkier in the bedroom then he’d ever expected himself to be cool with, but he also never thought he’d be doing those things with Jackson Whittemore, so there was that.

Which was why Stiles hadn’t been so surprised when Jackson came by one night when his father was one, a dark bag in the backseat and a blindfold in hand. “Get in, loser,” he called, voice dry but eyes bright.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles hopped in obligingly. “Are we going shopping?”

“No one likes your stupid references, Stilinski. Stop watching girl movies.”

Pouting, Stiles huffed at him. “First of all, that movie is a classic. Secondly, just because it’s a movie _for girls_ doesn’t mean it has to be a _girl’s movie_. Lastly, you love it when I talk nerdy to you, don’t even try that.”

Snorting, his boyfriend rolled his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that. Now put this on.” Jackson shoved the blindfold into his hands, and Stiles gave him a wry look before pulling it on. This wasn’t the first time. Not only had they both worn one for certain activities, but Jackson was very, _very_ into surprises, and he’d quickly figured out how Stiles could ferret out answers and had picked up certain skills to counter that.

As soon as it was settled, Stiles could feel and hear the car as it backed out and moved down the road. Because he enjoyed being contrary, he tried to keep track of where it was going and when it turned, but Stiles’ mental map of the town was only so good, and he couldn’t tell how fast or slow the car was going in order to figure which exits he’d taken. So he just settled back, fiddling blindly with the radio because that bothered Jackson and trying not to sulk too much. Surprises were fun, but Stiles just liked _knowing_. 

Finally, they came to a stop, and Stiles started to pull off the blindfold. But Jackson snagged his wrist and shoved it aside, making a grumpy noise in warning. Sighing, Stiles stuck out his tongue, which of course prompted Jackson to bite it. Predictable boy. He could be sneaky too, he was just better at not making it obvious.

Letting himself be led into some building or another, Stiles’ nose crinkled. It smelled musty in here, with the tang of old metal. The scents were familiar, but he was a human and he just couldn’t keep track of that sort of stuff.

Finally stopping them, Jackson fiddled with something - it sounded like the bag he’d had - and then grabbed one of Stiles’ legs and yanked it out from under him. Flailing, he caught his boyfriend’s shoulders and scowled into his jaw. “What the hell, dude?”

“Shut up, I’m doing you a favor.” Something slipped around Stiles’ leg, and then Jackson did the same to the other. Slowly, he pulled them both up and there was the sharp plastic snap of buckles sliding into place.

Swallowing slowly, Stiles let his arms be manipulated next, feeling more snaps being done around his chest. “Jackson?” His voice absolutely didn’t quaver. It stayed strong and unflappable as he was. “Is this a harness?”

Giving a sharp sigh, Jackson settled his hands on Stiles’ hips. “If I tell you yes, will you _shut up_ already?”

Stiles leaned into the touch, a smile pulling at his lips. “Have you met me?”

The frustrated noise Jackson made was honestly hilarious. “You’re making me wish I hadn’t. Now just shut up, okay? Please.”

Since he could count on one hand the number of times Jackson had used that word for him (that didn’t involve a cockring and taking it like a champ), Stiles shut up.

Something that felt like rope - scratch that, Stiles was pretty sure it was rope - was wound around his arms and chest. It was tight, but not too much so - just snug and almost reassuring, like a strange kind of hug. After a few minutes, he started to realize that they weren’t just tied on him. Instead, the rope was forming little patterns along his skin and clothes. Knowing Jackson, they were probably colorful and expensive, too. Swallowing hard, Stiles realized he was being made into some kind of fancy _art_ , and he shivered.

Once it was done, Stiles’ arms were held above him by the rope, which criss-crossed down him in what felt like diamonds. Under that was the harness, which Stiles still hadn’t figured out, and then his clothes. “Okay, I admit it. I don’t get it.”

“If you’d let me finish you would.” Jackson snapped back, voice a little odd. Rough, almost. It could be from arousal, or it could be from emotion. There wasn’t any reason Stiles could think of for the latter, so it had to be the former.

Then there was a snap and something attached to the back of the harness. Jackson padded away, steps stupidly loud in this place (wherever that was), and then grunted like it was using his stupid werewolf strength on something.

And then Stiles was up in the air.

His weight was completely held by the harness, other than his pinned arms, but Stiles would be shocked if it didn’t look like the rope was supporting him. The entire contraption felt secure, even as his feet dangled helplessly below him, and Stiles a little kick just to see what would happen. The momentum of the sharp move made him swing, and he couldn’t help the small smile that earned. He’d always liked the feeling of being in the air, whether it be from swings or jumping off stuff or sitting on the window sill (which his father had banned as soon as he’d discovered).

Suddenly, the blindfold was snagged away, and Stiles was left staring down at Jackson, in Derek’s old subway-car-warehouse den (Peter had finally convinced him to move back to the Hale house, where there was less tetanus). His boyfriend didn’t look predatory or eager the way he’d expected. Instead, his expression was playing at emotionless, but the pain in his eyes was obvious to him. “Jackson?” Stiles asked, not even bothering to try and hide the note of panic in his voice.

“You’re an idiot,” Jackson told him, voice still that odd raw tone. “And so am I. When we got into this, I thought I could keep you. But that was stupid, right? ‘Cause it’s not like with Lydia. He wants you too, and I can’t fight that. I tried, but I can’t. So I’ve stopped trying.”

Staring at him, Stiles blinked slowly. “Wait, what?”

Jackson’s eyes flashed. “Are you really going to make me fucking say it?” He snarled. “Derek wants you, okay? The stupid jealousy plan worked for you, but you’re dense as fucking bricks and he didn’t say anything, so I didn’t either. But I don’t... you’re settling. For _me_ , and I’m not okay with being the ‘good enough’ one. Not with you. So shut the fuck up and wait for him to get back, because when he sees you like this, he won’t be able to fight it.” Smiling bitterly, Jackson shrugged. “I wouldn’t be able too. You make a pretty rabbit, Stiles.”

For a minute, Stiles just gaped at him, mouth working but no sound coming out. Giving him one last bitter smile, Jackson turned and looked like he was about to leave. So Stiles lashed out with his legs and hooked him around the neck, holding him in place. “Okay, I don’t even know where to _begin_ with this horseshit. First of all, I am not some fucking chew toy you can throw to Derek when you’re done. Ever. And secondly, your great self-sacrificing plan is to truss me up like Thanksgiving Dinner and throw me to the literal wolf? But I don’t get a say in any of this. You just assumed I would be totally cool with being some sort of rabbit dish with a side of kinky sex on the side.” Gritting his teeth furiously, Stiles unhooked one of his legs to he could kick Jackson on the back of the head with it. “You’re a _terrible fucking boyfriend_!”

Whirling around and shoving Stiles’ foot away, Jackson shot him a furious look. “I was trying to make it easier for you to move on!”

“By taking away my choice, you fucking dick! What if I don’t wanna, huh? What if I really fucking like you, God knows why.”

Expression going slack with shock, Jackson blinked at him. “What?”

Strangling him seemed like the best idea ever. Stiles was totally going to get on that. Choke him out with his thighs like Black Widow. “You’re my _boyfriend_. I like you. Why are you acting like this is mental Olympics? Goddamn moron.”

That only made him seem more shocked, and for one fleeting second, Stiles wanted to kick Lydia for doing that whole thing where she pretended she was dating him because of his status. Then the urge passed because _Lydia_. He was still pissed at Jackson, though. “But, Derek... you...?” Jackson managed, voice thin. It probably wasn’t because of him, but Stiles loosen the hook around his neck anyway.

“Fine, okay. I like Derek. Licking his abs would be fantastic. And I have that unfortunate fantasy about him holding me down on the bed and knotting me until I’m stuffed full of come, while murmuring about pupping me. Really, it’s more a curse than anything. But that doesn’t mean I want you to hang me in a fucking den and _leave_ me there, you gigantic tool.” Stiles managed another kick, because that was seriously low, and this time Jackson didn’t try and swat the leg away.

Licking his lips, Jackson nodded slowly. “Oh.” Then he rested a hand on one of Stiles’ thigh, rubbing softly. “I, ah... this might have been a little excessive.” That was as close to an apology as he was going to get, probably. At least, not until they were home and Stiles could use other forms of persuasion. “Should I get you down?”

“Don’t.”

That wasn’t Stiles’ voice, though. Instead it came from the darker, shadowy portion of the room, and two bright red eyes peered out of the gloom. Stiles’ startled squeak would have hurt his pride, except that Jackson let out an almost identical one, despite his werewolf powers. Ha. He was so hearing about that forever.

But, right. Alpha werewolf gaze out at them from the shadows. Kind of the thing to focus on. Though, Derek didn’t sound mad. Stiles was very, very familiar with all the flavors of mad Derek had, and this wasn’t one of them. Instead he sounded almost satisfied, which was.. um... yeah, not helping Stiles stay calm and collected, let’s say.

Moving into the light, Derek practically stalked toward them, something about his movements smug. Maybe even gleeful, and... shit, he’d totally heard Stiles’ little confession, hadn’t he? That was great. Just great. Stiles was going to make Jackson _cry_ for this next time they got a few hours of alone time. Spankings always made him go a little haywire, which was good for both of them. “It would be a shame to let him down without playing a little.” The Alpha continued, coming up behind Jackson, who was so tense Stiles thought he might explode.

Huh. Maybe he wouldn’t make him cry, then.

As Derek rested his chin on Jackson’s neck, Stiles felt heat pool in his stomach and his eyes go wide. That was a very nice picture. “After all, it’s not just him, is it?”

Jackson squeaked again, and Stiles’ eyebrows raised slowly. Catching his gaze, his boyfriend snorted. “So you’re not the only one who wants to lick his abs. Danny was saying things, and it kinda... stuck.”

Expression unimpressed, Derek just rolled his eyes and pushed Jackson forward a step, so his face was against Stiles chest. “You messed up, Jackson. And I think you should make it up to him. Don’t you?” His gaze snapped to Stiles, who shivered helplessly. He was just fine with that. Becoming more fine by the second. 

Glancing up at Stiles in askance - oh, _now_ he wanted premission - Jackson slowly fell down up he was kneeling, which left him at the perfect height. One hand reached up shakily, pulling down Stiles’ zipper and then shoving his boxers down and out of the way. Above him, Derek gave a low grumble of approval, petting a hand through Jackson’s hair. At once, Jackson went a little looser, a little calmer, and Stiles recognized the look as a lesser version of the one he wore when they really got into it. Cool. That was the best Alpha power so far.

Leaning forward, Jackson swallowed Stiles down in one go, making the smaller boy arch in the air and moan. His legs went limp, dangling down into open air, and the way he was held up meant that Jackson could shove and maneuver him back and forth until he was esentially fucking his boyfriend’s mouth via swinging, and completely out of his power. Groaning, Stiles let his head fall back through the opening of the ropes, neck bared in pleasurable surrender.

Moving around to Stiles’ back Derek pressed his hand flat against his lower back, and scraped slowly down. The sensation made him shiver and give a tiny, mewling noise. “He was right about one thing, though.” Derek murmured against Stiles’ shoulder, unbothered by the jerks Jackson’s movements caused. “You do make a very pretty rabbit, and I won’t be saying no.”

With that, he hand jerked down and sliced through the back of Stiles’ jeans, cutting through the pants and the underwear in one go. The sudden cold air made him yelp and clench, and behind him Derek gave a hiss of breath. Something popped behind him, followed by the distinctive squelch of lube. Wet fingers played at Stiles’ entrance, making him shudder and then nod, hungry noises falling from his lips. 

The digits slipped into him, two at once, and Stiles gasped and tried to buck forward into Jackson’s mouth and then back onto Derek’s fingers. But then both held him, one hand on either side of his hip, keeping him completely under their power.

Soon enough, Jackson lashed his tongue onto the tip, and Derek’s fingers, now including a third, curled and pressed into his prostate. Unable to handle that, combined with the utter _helplessness_ of the situation, Stiles’ breath caught and then he came down Jackson’s throat, who swallowed it down happily.

The fingers slipped out and Jackson pulled his head back, ignoring the whimper Stiles gave as his poor sensitive dick was left out in the cold. Standing back up, Jackson reached up and steadied himself using Stiles’ shoulder, and then ripped open his own jeans and started to jerk himself off. Within a minute, he came onto his boyfriend, splattering his thighs with ropes of come. Panting happily, Jackson went up on his tiptoes to kiss Stiles’ neck softly, and then tucked himself away.

Voice still a little hoarse, Stiles turned his head to try and look at Derek, who was hovering close enough that he could feel the heat but not touching. “What about you?”

“He was to wait.” Jackson answered, and Stiles’ eyes snapped to him. “It takes a while to build up a knot.”

Going still for a moment, Stiles let out a low, shuddering breath. “Really?” Derek gave a low noise of agreement, hand settling back on his lower back. “Oh. Okay. Um, quick addition to that fantasy. I want to be giving Jackson the best blowjob _ever_ while that’s happening.”

Perking up a little, Jackson’s lips turned down, like he was afraid to be hopeful. “So, you’re not mad anymore? You won’t be calling me an idiot anymore?”

“Of course not.” Stiles snorted, shooting him a smile. “You’re still an idiot. Just a very, very lucky one.” Relaxing, he let himself feel warmth on both sides, and decided that he liked this situation quite a lot. Except for one bit. “Now could someone let me down? I lost feeling in my arms like five minutes ago.”


End file.
